


Vows

by Mirimea



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Alcohol, Domestic Fluff, Hospitals, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Post-Canon, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5075230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirimea/pseuds/Mirimea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some moments in a relationship are important. Some aren’t. Kevin’s and Connor’s relationship through the years, told in bits and pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vows

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit corny because it's basically an adapted version of Anglican wedding vows, forced into a fic about stupid ex-mormon boys. Please...disregard that for me, because I liked working with these themes, okay? *clears throat*

**In sickness**

Connor McKinley feels deep sympathy for the plight of their new Elders, but there is also an air of satisfaction in the mission center that night. It is one of the things that connect them all, the traumatic memories of the stomach ailments that had plagued them all during their first weeks in their new country.

This time it happens on the fifth day. Had they all not been good Mormon boys, betting would probably have taken place. As it is now, most of them stray away from the living quarters (because _gross_ ) and Connor, due to his role as district leader becomes the appointed caretaker; a duty he would much rather have left to somebody else.

Elder Cunningham has it easy. After puking up pretty much everything except his own guts he falls asleep on his thin bed. Just to be safe, Connor puts a trashcan beside the bed together with a bottle of water.

Elder Price is not quite as fortunate. More than half a day into it and he is still hugging the porcelain bowl in their old, small bathroom, his hair damp with sweat and sticking to his forehead. His skin, not yet too touched by the sun, is so pale he looks almost translucent and it makes the bags under his eyes even more prominent.

Connor would much rather just leave the poor guy alone, but at this point even he is getting a bit worried. But hey, at least seeing and hearing someone puke their guts out for more than twelve hours is effectively putting his schoolboy crush on pause. At least for the moment. He is even nice enough to pretend he cannot see the tears of exhaustion on Elder Price’s cheeks.

He stirs the rehydration solution into the glass of water, the spoon clinking against the glass. “Here. Just try it.”

Price turns his head away with a grimace, face so pale it almost looks green. “Are you _insane_?”

Connor holds up his free hand in what he hopes is a placating gesture. “It would be a long ride to the hospital just to get you hooked up to an IV.”

Elder Price makes a disgusted sound. It seems to trigger something in his stomach, however, and he begins to retch again. Connor wrinkles his nose and turns away, leaving the glass on the bathroom floor. He slides the door halfway shut to give him some privacy.

In the end they don’t have to go to the hospital, don’t even have to visit the local clinic. Price and Cunningham, pale and tired, spend the rest of the week mostly holed up inside the house, feeling sorry for themselves and being particularly picky with their food.

The following week, things are back to usual, and per tradition, no one mentions stomach illnesses again.

**In health**

Even _Kevin_ knows by now that Elder McKinley is attracted to him, because the other Elder doesn’t really understand the concept of discretion and apparently all the other Elders had clued in to this fact pretty much the moment that Kevin and Arnold had stepped through the door the first time. It annoys Kevin mostly because he is apparently the last to know about it, and also because he isn’t sure quite how to handle it.

The more he thinks about it, the more obvious it is. Elder McKinley, for all his preaching, is actually very bad at turning his… his _homosexuality_ off, and he will approach Kevin with the silliest of excuses all the time and Kevin doesn’t want to be impolite so he tries not to take a step back, tries not to tense up whenever Elder McKinley places a hand on his shoulder or punches his arm in a display of _obvious_ heterosexuality.

It’s not like Kevin hasn’t been the object of attraction before; it’s just that the girls in his school had been more discrete about it, or perhaps it had just seemed more innocent. It had made it easy to ignore, and Kevin could go on with his own life and purposes and didn’t have to give in to any, well, any… temptations.

Now he doesn’t have that luxury.

The private thoughts and ideas that are beginning to appear at inconvenient times are humiliating, and at first he tries to think that the Lord might be testing him. Then, he starts to doubt the existence of a higher being at all. It’s a terrifying notion that he doesn’t want to completely touch upon, and by comparison, the idea of being attracted to another man doesn’t seem so bad at all.

After all, Connor McKinley is, well, he’s _sweet_. He’s responsible and reliable, even when Kevin knows that the other Elder might be uncertain or scared. He’s just a little bit geeky, but in a kind, patient way that Kevin has only seen before in elderly priests. He’s the kind of guy that, had he been in Kevin’s class in high school, he wouldn’t have noticed him at all, but Kevin has been forced to reevaluate many things over the past few months and now he definitely _does_ notice Connor McKinley.

One night, Kevin wakes up in the middle of the night, confused for a moment until he recognizes the sounds and the tense feeling in the air.

There are many things he hadn’t known about Uganda until he had arrived, and the thunderstorms are probably at the top of that list. Apparently, Kampala has been named one of the cities most plagued by thunderstorms in the _world_ and the tiny storms Kevin had experienced in Utah during the first nineteen years of his life can’t really be used as a comparison.

The first storm that he and Arnold had experienced, Kevin had spent on his knees by his bed, hands clasped in prayer because he might have doubted the existence of God, but does that really mean that the heavens have to open and strike fire upon the lands because of it?

Seven months later, he is much calmer about the whole business. He still wakes up, still fears the possibility of getting struck by lightning, but at least he doesn’t believe in eternal damnation anymore.

But McKinley still probably does, Kevin thinks, because when he finds himself unable to go back to sleep he puts on a pair of sweat pants and pads into the kitchen only to be faced with the sight of the mission leader kneeling by the kitchen table, his hands clasped much in the same way Kevin’s had used to. On the table beside him is a half-empty cup of milk, and Kevin guesses that the other Elder had been having another one of his sleepless nights when the storm had started.

He pauses at the edge of the kitchen, thinks about heading back to bed for a moment before he clears his throat.

Elder McKinley looks up at the sound, letting his hands drop. “Oh, Elder Price! I... didn’t know anyone else was awake.”

“Hi,” Kevin says, feeling awkward because he realizes that Elder McKinley is only wearing his garments. He averts his gaze. “Sorry if I startled you.”

“Not at all!” Elder McKinley says brightly, even as his cheeks grow pink. “I was just… taking care of some things.”

McKinley’s garments are ill-fitting; the other Elder has probably lost weight during his time in Uganda. Even so, the white fabric leaves little to the imagination, and Kevin can feel his face heat up despite himself. “I’m sorry I disturbed you. I’ll just head back to bed.”

He has the time to see McKinley’s mouth open in a protest before he turns around. There is a flash of lightning in response to the previous thunder, and Kevin can hear the sound of the rain pouring outside, creating puddles in the dirt. His skin buzzes, almost as if the lightning has electrified him, turned something inside of him into pure energy.

As he escapes around the corner, he tries not to think about why exactly it is that he feels so alive.

**In good times**

It is the twenty-first of March and the jittery feeling in Connor’s chest and underneath his skin is almost unbearable. He glances at his wrist-watch for what feels like the hundredth time, then at his roommate who is hunched over his giant computer screen. He had hoped that Aaron would be out doing some LAN party thing tonight, but no such luck. Connor glances back at his watch again.

Eight hours ago, Kevin and Arnold had stepped off the plane from Kampala.

They haven’t spoken properly to each other in eight months, and in the grand scheme of things, Connor doesn’t come first because Kevin has to have an obligatory family evening, not that Kevin had sounded very enthusiastic about it in his latest email. So Connor had simply emailed Kevin his phone number and said to call him whenever he had time, and Kevin had promised to do it as soon as he could, whatever that meant.

“No plans tonight?”

Connor almost jumps out of his skin when Aaron speaks, with his eyes still glued to his screen. He lowers his hand from his chest, where it had automatically flown as if that would somehow have protected him from the shock. “No, I’m waiting for a call.”

“Oh.” There is absolutely no enthusiasm in Aaron’s voice, and Connor doesn’t know what to reply. After a moment, Aaron shrugs and picks up his large headphones and slips them over his head. Over his shoulder, Connor can see the starting screen for some online game or another. He leans back on his bed and sighs.

He wishes his nerves would settle down; he wishes that he knew that what he was feeling was _excitement_ rather than dread, because it’s surprisingly difficult to tell. For the past few months, Connor has tried to tell himself that… the thing that had developed between him and Kevin had only been a fling, or perhaps an experiment. He had always been under the impression that Kevin was as new to it all as Connor and it had been so _sweet_ , exciting, forbidden. He treasures the memories, but through their semi-regular mail exchanges, they had never really talked about _that_. Not that Connor had really expected them to, because what is there to say, really?

He almost drops the cellphone in his hands when it finally, _finally_ starts to vibrate. The screen is lit up with a number he doesn’t recognize, of course he doesn’t, one that comes from a regular phone rather than a cell. The butterflies in his stomach collectively make a swooping motion when Connor swipes a finger over the screen, hoping that it won’t be a phone salesman or something.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

Kevin speaks quietly and sounds mostly tired.

Connor sits up properly, the phone pressed to his ear. “Glad to be back?”

“I haven’t slept in the last twenty-four hours. I don’t know yet.”

“Bad flight?” Connor remembers how grumpy Kevin gets from lack of sleep. Even so, his chest is doing something strange because his initial nervousness is being smoothened over by another feeling entirely, something like almost-euphoria because Kevin’s voice is so familiar, so strangely comforting.  

 “Not the best.” Kevin sighs on the other end, and there is some rustling on the other line, as if he is shifting position. “And it’s _cold_ outside.”

“I _know.”_ Connor had gone through the same kind of shock when he had gotten back eight months ago, and that had been in the middle of the summer. In his defense, it had been a pretty cool summer even by Utah standards. “How was the party?”

“Good, I guess.” Kevin sounds almost as unenthused as Connor’s roommate had done a few minutes earlier. Which is strange, because an entire party dedicated to him personally is exactly the kind of thing Kevin _loves_. “It’s just... feels different. Jamie is _seven_ now. He barely remembers me.”

Connor doesn’t recognize the name so he assumes that Jamie is a cousin rather than a sibling. He’s never really gotten the grasp of Kevin’s family, which is enormous compared to Connor’s own. “You should get some sleep. It’ll feel better then.”

“I know.” There is a pause. “I just wanted to talk to you first.”

Almost-euphoria is an understatement now, because something in Connor’s chest swells until his entire body feels light and pleasant. He feels a tiny stab of embarrassment over how silly he is being, like a schoolgirl with a crush. His father would press his lips together in disappointment if he could see Connor now and whoa, pushing that thoughts away right now. “I’ve missed you,” he says before he can chicken out.  

It is quiet on the other end for a moment, then, Kevin’s voice takes on a strange tone that Connor almost wants to call vulnerability. “You too.”

They are quiet for a moment longer, but there is no awkwardness anymore. Then Connor realizes that there are no voices or other background noises, which is strange considering the celebration that is supposed to take place at the Price household. “Where are you right now?”

“In the laundry room,” Kevin mutters “I just wanted some privacy to call you. I’m sharing my old room with some cousins tonight.”

“Oh.”

Connor imagines Kevin leaned against a washing machine, a cordless phone pressed to his ear. He takes a moment to fantasize about his appearance because it’s been _so long_. Probably tan, perhaps his hair is longer. He doesn’t quite know if Kevin is a jeans person, or a khaki person, or something else entirely, he realizes, and quenches the sudden desire to ask what Kevin is wearing. _Not the time and place_.

“We have to meet up soon,” he says instead. “But you should get some sleep.”

“Tomorrow?” Kevin says hopefully, and Connor smiles giddily.

“If you think you can get away from your family.”

“I’ll come up with something.”

“I’m sure you will.” Because Kevin is nothing if not resourceful.

They talk for a little while longer, until even Connor can tell that Kevin is close to falling asleep on his feet and forces him to hang up the phone and go to bed.

Once it is quiet on the other end, Connor lets the phone fall to the bed. He leans back again. The fluttering in his chest is gone, so completely that Connor has a hard time imagining that he had ever felt it at all. If anything, he feels calmer than he thinks he might have ever felt before.

He glances at his roommate’s back again, then allows his gaze to wander out of the window as he starts to fantasize about tomorrow.

**In bad times**

It’s not fair that Connor is so calm about this because Kevin is totally freaking out and in the worst way possible; his brain can’t seem to focus and it feels almost like he is dreaming because he knows he should _do something_ but he doesn’t know _what_. He’s never minded hospitals before, has always felt secure with the knowledge that these people know what they are doing, but tonight it only feels surreal and Kevin feels nauseous just looking at Connor’s hands. They are almost cartoonishly swollen and already starting to blister.  

An injury of this kind shouldn’t keep them waiting, how in the world can absolutely every nurse and doctor be busy this time of the night?

“I think I’m in shock,” Connor says slowly, startling Kevin out of his thoughts. He’s still breathing calmly, studying his injured hands with mild curiosity and disgust. “I mean, this should hurt, right?”

It really should. And Connor should be crying, or swearing, or screaming, or do any of the things that Kevin kind of wants to do.

“I think we should sue the one that designed that kettle,” Kevin says to distract him, despite that the fact that it had been an entirely ordinary kettle. There is certainly _something_ wrong with a design that makes it so easy for it to tangle in its own cord and fall over when removed from the electrical heating source.

“How very American of you,” Connor says brightly, and when Kevin looks closer he can see that Connor’s pale face is covered in beads of cold sweat. He feels something cold spread in his stomach and has to resist the urge to stand up and scream for a nurse or doctor right now. Since he can’t even hold Connor’s hand right now, so he has to settle for an arm around his shoulders, hoping that Connor will find it comforting rather than stressful, because lately Connor has gotten freakishly good at decoding Kevin’s emotions lately and Kevin doesn’t really want to let on just how unsettling this whole situation is.

He knows that he doesn’t deal with emergencies very well. To be fair, Connor doesn’t either, but at least he usually manages to keep a relatively cool head compared to Kevin, who admittedly has had quite a few spectacular melt-downs when things haven’t gone his way (see also, that time he failed an exam, that time he didn’t get the internship he wanted, and that whole first catastrophic week in Uganda). But he’s getting better, he really thinks he is.  

Not to let it be said that Connor hasn’t had his drama queen moments as well, because Connor does love a good dramatic scene. But for him it’s usually calculated, every movement and word chosen with particular care. Kevin simply snaps.

Which is why, when Connor knocks an entire kettle of boiling water over his own hands, it is Kevin who repeats “oh my God” loudly several times, while Connor stares at his hands for a good long moment, then walks over to the sink and tells Kevin to turn the cold water on. A few minutes later he announces that maybe they should head to the emergency room now.

“Uhm.” Connor sounds almost hesitant. “I take back what I said before.”

“What?”

“It hurts.” Connor bites his lip, looks conflicted, and Kevin knows that it’s worse than Connor lets on because a) Connor doesn’t complain, and b) he doesn’t even have a b) because Connor just _doesn’t complain_ unless things are really bad.

Just as Kevin begins to stand up to grab any unfortunate medical personnel that happens to pass them, a nurse walks up to them. He takes one look at Connor’s burned hands and minutes later, Connor’s hands have been wrapped to protect the blisters and enjoying what appears to be some pretty effective painkillers.

“I really don’t need to stay overnight,” Connor protests to Kevin once his hands have been bandaged and they’ve been led to a bed in a six-bed hospital room. He sounds pouty in a way Kevin doesn’t often hear from his boyfriend. “I’m sure someone else needs the bed more than I do.”

Kevin is secretly relieved, because Connor does look pretty terrible and it’s probably a good thing to keep him around people that actually know how to handle an emergency, even though it hurts his ego a bit to admit.

“Do you want me to bring you a pajamas?” he asks instead, glancing around the room. Most of the beds have the drapes pulled closed to give the patients some sense of privacy.  

“Please do. I don’t want to spend the night in a paper gown.“ Connor sits down on the bed heavily and makes a face that Kevin can only describe as lost. He feels something tug at his heart.

“No one has offered you a paper gown,” Kevin points out, and now Connor actually does pout a little.

“You know what I mean.”

“I’ll bring your iPad too,” Kevin says, listing off his fingers. Connor had given him a key to his dorm room ages ago. “Toilet bag. Pajamas. Change of clothes. Snacks.” He pauses when he notices the look Connor is giving him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Connor speaks slowly. “Just… you don’t have to. It’s Friday night, I’m sure there’s something else you’d rather do than run errands for me.”

Kevin stares at him. “Like what?”

Connor shrugs, looks down at his bandaged hands.

Kevin can’t seem to decide whether to feel confused, insulted or hurt, because maybe he has been misunderstanding things, but he has kind of been starting to take Connor’s presence in his life for granted, and there is discomfort rising in his throat as he considers the possibility that Connor may not feel the same.

“You really think that?” he asks, and Connor shifts uncomfortably.

“Well, maybe not.” There’s a pause and Connor frowns. “I’m sorry. I’m not thinking clearly. My head feels fuzzy.”

Kevin sits down beside him on the bed, at a loss because this evening has been so strange from start to finish, he doesn’t know what to think or feel anymore. “That’s a cop out and you know it.”

“Well, I’m tired.” Connor leans against Kevin’s side and despite the worry worming in his stomach Kevin feels a stitch of pleasure.

“You’re a little high,” he says, because it’s true.

“I’m injured. Literally.”

They’re quiet for a moment, then, Kevin can feel Connor start to relax against him, his breathing evening out. He shifts slightly. “Hey. Don’t fall asleep yet.”

Connor mumbles something, then stirs back awake, sitting up and giving Kevin a bleary-eyed look.

In the end they forego the pajamas entirely and Kevin has to help him undress, Connor pliant and sweet against him, and the worry loses some of its grasp on him. He ends up standing by Connor’s bedside as his boyfriend slips away into sleep, the pained wrinkle between his eyebrows finally evening out.

Connor is mature in a way Kevin has never managed, and so thoroughly responsible; it is easy for Kevin to forget (or admittedly, not really notice) the vulnerability lingering beneath the mostly composed surface. Kevin knows, sort of, how much Connor still struggles sometimes, with himself, with memories of bullying, with demands from his family.

Maybe Kevin had been naïve to think that these vulnerabilities didn’t extend to their relationship as well.

“Idiot,” he mutters quietly, not sure if he means himself or Connor.  

**For richer**

“Oh my God, get a _room_ ,” Arnold screeches, louder than Connor thinks is necessary, and he can feel Kevin groan into their kiss before they reluctantly pull apart. Connor himself silently bemoans the loss of Kevin’s hand at the small of his back, where he had been starting to toy with the hem of Connor’s pants.

Kevin may or may not be a bit tipsy, which is such a rare thing and Connor should probably feel guilty for how much he is privately enjoying it. Kevin may be the most emotionally clingy person that Connor has ever had the pleasure to know, but he’s definitely not clingy in a physical way. That’s Connor’s suite, entirely, to run his fingers over Kevin’s arm, to cuddle up with him while they’re watching a movie; for him it’s like Kevin is a magnet that Connor’s body is attracted to at all times.

“This _is_ our room,” Kevin says pointedly and well, Connor may be a bit tipsy as well because he feels a giggle bubble in his throat as he rests his forehead against Kevin’s shoulder.

Arnold squints around the bedroom, bare walls and moving boxes and all, and Connor can almost _hear_ the gears slowly turning in his head before he smiles apologetically. “Oh! I guess it is.”

“He does that on purpose,” Kevin mutters, and Connor feels the giggle bubble up again. He doesn’t try to suppress it this time and is rewarded with a slightly bemused grin from Kevin in response.

“Well, you’re the hosts, you shouldn’t hide in here.” Arnold reprimands them, sitting down on their bed. It shifts, and the intrusion make Kevin and Connor automatically move even further apart. “People are starting to head home.”

Kevin makes a tiny sound that just might be interpreted as _good_ , but Connor ignores it. “Gosh, what time is it?”

Their moving-in party had been small and with a strict friends-only policy, mostly the guys from their mission that lived nearby and a few classmates and co-workers. It had been a relatively quiet celebration, mostly forced upon them by people that kept insisting that moving-in parties were _tradition_.

“It’s pretty late,” Arnold says. “The food was great, by the way. I liked those date-bacon thingies.” He holds up to fingers to show the shape of the snack (basically just round), then sways a little, grinning, and Connor realizes that Arnold may be a little past drunk at the same time as Kevin slowly says, “Do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?”

Arnold’s grin becomes almost impossibly bright. “Sure! Thanks! It’ll be like a sleep-over party.”

They straighten their clothes and head out to say goodbye to the last of their guests, navigating between boxes and sacks and suitcases, then make up a makeshift bed for Arnold on the couch. He falls asleep almost immediately, face first, mouth open and before Connor has even turned off the lights in the living room.

He heads back towards their new, shared bedroom. Kevin is in the bathroom, door open as he brushes his teeth, and it’s ridiculous because Connor has seen Kevin’s teeth-brushing routine hundreds of times before, but something about it now feels different, makes his heart jump the tiniest bit in his chest.

Kevin notices him watching and raises his eyebrows questioningly. Connor takes it as an invite and leans against the doorframe. “I can’t believe we actually have our own apartment.”

Kevin continues to brush for a moment, then spits and rinses the brush. “It’s been a week and you keep saying that.”

“Well, it hasn’t sunk in yet.”

“Is the shock of not having to see Aaron-the-nerd’s face every day really that big?”

More like, the shock of actually getting to see Kevin every morning and every night and realize that no, Connor _is_ never going to get tired of it. It is the feeling of his chest swelling with happiness because he is slowly getting used to seeing Kevin brush his teeth every morning and night, to hear his light snore in bed and to do their laundry together. It is the shock of realizing that a person can actually _be_ this happy, it’s not just something Connor reads about in cheesy magazine articles.  

But he suddenly feels shy about it, so instead of saying that, he simply shrugs and feels his smile widen. “Something like that.”

Kevin looks at him questioningly again and Connor can’t resist the lean over and kiss his cheek, intending it to be sweet, but something about the proximity to Kevin and the minty scent of his toothpaste sparks something in Connor’s body again, starts what Arnold’s appearance in their room had interrupted. He lifts a hand to place on the back of Kevin’s neck, rubbing lightly.  

When he pulls away, Kevin’s eyes are bright with intrigue, even as he is still holding the toothbrush in his hand.

Connor grins at him and turns around to head to their bedroom, aware of Kevin’s eyes on him as he walks.  

**For poorer**

It is strange how much Connor can miss a person with whom he shares an apartment, but between Kevin studying for his LSAT half the days and working with the student council the rest, and Connor trying to get hours in at his part-time job in addition to his own studies (because _someone_ has to gather enough money to pay their rent every month), they barely have time to eat breakfast together nowadays. Even when they do, Kevin has his face deep in books with a wrinkle between his eyebrows.

It’s not a good time for either of them.

Kevin gets short-tempered when he is stressed, has never been able to handle any kind of adversity with much grace, and Connor does love Kevin, he _does_ , but Kevin can also make him angry in a way that no other person has ever been able to.

It is not unusual for Kevin to forget about the existence of people outside of Kevin’s own personal sphere. His tendency to become intensely obsessed with certain things for periods of time keeps most of his energy focused inside himself and he forgets to consider other people. And the more stressed he is, the worse he gets. And Connor deals with it, because Kevin is kind of a package deal and you can’t get the good stuff without the bad stuff, but really, sometimes he has to put his foot down.

They almost never argue. At least, not for _real_. They bicker (“did you really have to snap at that poor cashier?” “she couldn’t even count to _twenty_ ”) and Connor is good at icy silences when he’s in that mood, but when they argue, Kevin is a _runner_ and Connor _hates_ that about him with a passion. He _hates_ being left alone in the apartment, left with nothing to blow his steam except the quiet walls. He hates how his anger will dissipate, and he hates not being able to make up, hates having to be the one that waits.  

The room is dark when Connor finally squints at his wrist-watch one last time, then gives up and stands. Since it is this late, Kevin is probably staying at Arnold’s place tonight.

They had argued about, of all things, money. And it had been silly, because it’s not like they’re any poorer this month than they are any other month. But even though their apartment is tiny, the rent is considerably higher than it had been when they had both lived in the dorms, and Kevin’s part-time job with the student council has such a low pay it can practically be considered volunteer work. And Kevin is so blasé about things like that in a way Connor can never manage, because Kevin has never had to worry about money before and is having difficulty understanding that maybe they could spend their money on more useful things than whitening strips and expensive conditioners.

It’s a touchy subject overall, but it had escalated because Kevin is stressed and Connor misses him and Connor blames himself because he _knows_ that Kevin is entirely unable to pick up on things like that unless Connor talks to him.

Connor sleeps poorly that night, tries to enjoy having the entire bed to himself but ends up feeling lonely. He thinks about Kevin on Arnold’s tiny, lumpy couch, and feels a stitch of satisfaction.  

Eight o’clock Sunday morning, Connor is tired and disoriented as he heads into the kitchen. He finds his cellphone forgotten on the counter, presses a button to let the screen light up and realizes that he has two new texts from Kevin. The first one says simply “at Arnold’s”. The second had been sent at 03:32 a.m. and says, simply, “sorry”.

He feels a stab of guilt for not checking his phone earlier and types out “I miss you”.

After staring at the screen for a moment, hoping despite himself that Kevin will reply immediately, Connor pushes himself up to begin breakfast preparations.

He’s in the middle of frying pancakes (comfort food, alright?) when he hears the key turn in the front door lock and his heart skips a beat. Minutes later, when Kevin is carefully stepping into kitchen, Connor focuses on the frying pan, hates that he’s suddenly feeling shy around _Kevin_ , of all people.

He stiffens in surprise when arms suddenly encircle him from behind.

“I’m sorry,” Kevin says into his hair. “Please don’t be mad.”

Connor tilts his head up, inhales the familiar scent of his boyfriend. “I’m not. Anymore.”

“We should make a budget together.”

Connor shakes his head, and for once in his life, Kevin seems to get the hint and shuts up. Connor turns the finished pancake over onto the plate, then sets the frying pan aside and turns around in Kevin’s arms.

Kevin looks like he has slept in his clothes, his hair is messy in a way that Connor has only seem a few times before, and his chin has that five o’clock shadow that Connor usually finds impossibly sexy.

“Do you have to study today?”

“I always have to study,” Kevin says wearily. “But maybe… breakfast first?”

Connor feels himself start to smile, just a little. “Breakfast sounds good.”

Kevin sniffs in the air. “You made coffee?”

“I always do.” He may not drink it, but Kevin usually cannot function without at least one cup in the morning.

“I love you,” Kevin says seriously. Connor lets the smile take over his face now because he feels so relieved that they’re past this now, that things feel almost normal. He leans forward to kiss Kevin’s cheek.

“You too. Now please set the table.”

**For the rest of our days**

With children in the house, Kevin’s nephews and nieces and cousins and more obscure relatives that Connor hasn’t even tried to keep track of, the celebration dies down quite soon after the fireworks. Kevin’s mother putters around for a while, putting away half-drunk glasses of non-alcoholic champagne before she, too, announces that she will tuck in for the night.

“Turn the lights off before you boys head to bed, alright?”

 Kevin and Connor both nod in reply from where they’re lounging on the couch in the far end of the living room, as close to each other as they can manage without making things too awkward around Kevin’s family. Once Kevin’s mother has disappeared up the stairs, Connor lets his head drop against Kevin’s shoulder.

“Your family is exhausting.”

Kevin shifts and moves to put his arm around Connor’s shoulders, squeezing gently. “Sorry about that.”

Once they had opted out of the family Christmas celebration, Kevin had been guilt-tripped into at least visiting over New Year’s. Of course, family events are never small in the Price household. Kevin is altogether too used to it to be bothered by it, but Connor has yet to be able to relax completely around the sheer amount of people, most of them conservative and devout Latter Day Saints.

Kevin’s and Connor’s relationship is slightly more than an open secret; it is simply not spoken of. When one of the kids asks who Connor is, they may or may not get shushed or get told that he is a ‘friend’. Not that anyone is less than friendly. They’re all upbeat, familiar and kind, and Connor finds it all so thoroughly _exhausting_.

“Jack’s youngest was adorable though,” Connor muses, then hums in pleasure when Kevin begins to massage his shoulder. “She had your eyes.”

Mary, the newest addition to the Price family and Jack’s third daughter in almost as many years, is only two months old and had been the focal point of the celebration as she made her grand debut among many of the relatives. Even Connor, who is not very used to children overall, is smitten with her.

“Jack’s going to be sleep deprived for _years_ with all those kids,” Kevin says lightly.

There is nothing in his voice, not really, but there is something, perhaps the way he _breathes_ , Connor doesn’t know. Either way, it makes Connor turn his head to study Kevin’s very neutral expression.

And the thing is, he doesn’t even have to ask.

He knows Kevin _so_ well he can almost feel himself what it is that his best friend and boyfriend is feeling. He knows that the old sibling rivalry still lingers. Despite the friendliness and easy banter, there is something, sometimes, in the way Kevin and Jack assess each other that Connor can’t help but notice. And once upon a time, Kevin had always had the advantage of being the oldest, being the one expected to succeed _first_. Get that great job. Find a sweet wife. Start the perfect family.

Now, Kevin is slowly being reduced to being the strange uncle in the eyes of his family. The one who brings his ‘friend’ to every family gathering, a ‘friend’ who is always given a separate bedroom despite Kevin’s increasingly impatient protests. The one who has five nieces and nephews in total, but has yet to be named godfather even once.

And it’s not _fair_ , Connor thinks. Kevin had aced his LSAT and is well on his way towards obtaining his Juris Doctor Degree. He’s ambitious and driven, sometimes to the point where Connor has to remind him to sleep, eat, and get some air. He’s dorky in a way that still somehow manage to surprise Connor at times, and he’s enthusiastic and giving, and Connor loves him so dearly, he doesn’t even remember how he had managed to get through his life pre-Kevin Price.

Connor stares at the living room carpet, which has that impractical pink rose color that Kevin’s mother seems to be so fond of. His brown socks clash against it. Kevin is running his thumb over his arm lightly, automatically.

“Let’s get married,” Connor says.

Kevin goes still. “What?”

If Connor starts to think about it, he thinks he might start to hyperventilate. He moves away and turns on the couch so that he can face Kevin properly. Kevin is staring at him, wide-eyed. “Why aren’t we already married?” Kevin opens his mouth to say something but Connor plows on. “It’s legal now. Our parents couldn’t pretend we’re not together. And I can’t imagine not being with you, so what’s the point in _not_ being married?“

Kevin is still gaping, then closes is mouth and is silent for a moment. “Do you want to marry me just to spite our families?” He sounds bemused.

“Are you even listening?” Had that champagne really been non-alcoholic? Because Connor feels almost dizzy from the fast way his heart is beating. It’s such a strange feeling. He has battled his own insecurities for most of his life, but the general anxiety and self-doubt he has always felt has been dissipating lately. It’s almost like his entire being has developed to reach this particular moment in time. “I love you and I want to marry you.” And because Kevin’s still looking mostly confused, he adds. “Please say yes?”

“I… _yes_. And oh my _gosh_ , are you really _proposing_ to me? In my parents’ house?”

He looks so incredulous that Connor starts to laugh, breathless and relieved because this is going to be an insane year if this is how it starts.

“I think I did. And you said yes. We have to tell people.” Connor fumbles after his phone, then stares at it for a moment. “It’s New Year’s. We won’t be able to get hold of anyone.”

He makes a startled sound and he drops the phone on the couch when Kevin grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him in for a somewhat uncoordinated kiss. Connor hums against his lips. Back when his thing with Kevin had been nothing more than a one-sided crush, and before even that, he had used to fantasize about being swept off his feet. He’d fantasized about large weddings and grand gestures. He _hadn’t_ fantasized about someone who can seriously live on nothing but peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for weeks and who can sing every word to “Under the Sea” at the same time as he ties a perfect half-Windsor. But apparently, that is what Connor has gotten, and somehow he feels like the luckiest guy in the world for it.

“Hey there, fiancé,” Kevin says when they pull apart and Connor feels heat rush to his face, feels so pleased with everything, and most of all with how Kevin seems to be so entirely _on_ with the craziness.

“Hey,” Connor replies.

* * *

 

It turns out that it is impossible to sit inside quietly when happiness is running through their veins like sparkling water. The air out on the street is crisp and clear and turns Connor’s breaths into mist.

They walk aimlessly down the street, through the spots of light from the street lamps. With one glove crushed in the same hand that he’s holding his phone, Kevin struggles with a text and finally hits send.

“Damn it’s cold outside,” he says as he slips his phone into his jacket pocket and breathes on his hand before putting the glove back on.

Connor tucks his arm under Kevin’s now free arm. They can’t exactly draw heat from each other through their coats, but it’s the thought that counts. “Who’d you text?”

“Arnold.” Kevin gives him a look that seems to add, ‘of course’. “Had to tell him the news. I mean, he won’t see this until tomorrow probably, but still.”

The one person in Kevin’s life that is almost as important to him as Connor is. Back in Uganda, Connor had sometimes harbored embarrassing amounts of jealously of Arnold Cunningham, who spent almost every waking hour with Kevin. In retrospect, it has been ridiculous. But then, Connor had been pretty ridiculous back then.

“Make sure to tell him _I’m_ the one who proposed,” he says to distract himself, but also because he knows that it’s impossible that there isn’t at least one tiny part of Kevin that isn’t miffed that _he_ didn’t get to be the one with the thunder and grand announcements. But proposals are a ‘first come, first served’ business, Connor thinks.

Kevin gives him a dirty look that confirms Connor’s suspicion; Connor grins back as cheekily as he can until Kevin digs his gloved fingers into his side to tickle him. Connor squirms away for a moment until Kevin grabs him under the arm again, pulling him close.

“We’ll have to have a wedding,” Kevin says, sound almost surprised by the thought, as they continue down the street. There aren’t many people around anymore, there are too many suburban families with children in the neighborhood for anyone to stay up very long past midnight.

“Not in Disney World,” Connor says quickly, because really. After a moment’s thought he adds, “Or Las Vegas.”

Kevin bites his lip, a bit sheepish, but shrugs. “It’ll be awesome either way.”

Connor allows himself a moment to dream about his wedding, his _wedding_ , but the details won’t come to him quite yet. Autumn, winter, spring, summer colors? Home celebration or in a hired ballroom? Big or small? But at least he can imagine Kevin clearly, in a suit and wholesome grin, looking a hundred times more dashing than when they had first met in Uganda, eons ago, when Connor’s heart had literally skipped a beat to mark the start of his most intense crush to date.

He hugs Kevin’s arm closer as they continue down the street together.  


End file.
